Nick scanned through his latest email from Serena. Apparently the Fitzpatricks were still trying to take Tom's benefits away from Sammy. Nick didn't care about the benefits. He had raised Sammy this long without even knowing Tom was in the Navy, he could keep raising him without the stupid things. It was the principle of the thing that bothered him so much.

He couldn't understand this hatred Tom's parents had for him. Was it just greed? He couldn't remember them as having been particularly greedy. Then again, he didn't remember them as having been exceptionally hostile to him either. They hadn't been particularly warm or welcoming, but they hadn't tried to separate him from Tom or anything like that.

Oh well. This was, like so many other aspects of Nick's life now, something over which he had limited control. He loved Tom, but he missed the days when he could say for sure he was the master and commander of his own fate.

He might not be able to change the Fitzpatricks' minds, but he could make sure their evil couldn't have more of an effect on him or Sammy than strictly necessary. He hadn't significantly changed his spending habits once he'd gotten together with Tom, so he should be okay even if he and Tom split up.

Mal popped up over his shoulder. "How's it going?"

"It's going.” Nick sighed and made a face. "I'd give just about anything for the freaking Justice Department to get the hell out of the ER. I tripped over one of them yesterday. He was following me so closely, while I tried to treat a gunshot wound, that I actually tripped over him."

Mal shook his head in sympathy. "Hopefully, they'll get over themselves soon. I mean, how do they seriously get away with sitting around and pretending those bombings were anything but bombings?"

"What I want to know is how people aren't up in arms that Congress is actually ordering investigators to go poke around until they can find something to 'prove' something wasn't what it was.” Nick threw his hands up into the air. "Can you imagine getting a patient in with, say, a stab wound and then having hospital administration come in and say, 'Well, keep testing until you find a way to prove his liver is bleeding because of cancer?'"

"Well, I can now.” Mal snorted. "Seriously, though, how did we even get here?"

Nick couldn't answer that one. Corruption was a good start, but it had to go deeper than that. Simple greed just couldn't be behind the subversion of the whole investigative process.

As January spun further away from the old year and toward the new, Nick noticed that the presence of the Justice Department at the hospital wasn't stopping the FBI from doing their jobs. He'd been following the news a little more closely lately, although he wondered if that wasn't an act of self harm given the misery it pumped into his living room on a nightly basis, and he'd noticed a few more mentions of white supremacist groups being raided and investigated.

It could have been coincidence, of course. It could have been anything, but he couldn't bring himself to believe the two weren't connected. They had to be. The FBI had already been going after white supremacists, for crying out loud.

As the number of raids increased, so did the details of items found. The local news did a report specifically on the weapons found in each of the raids. In an interview, Agent Aliprandi gave a cool smile to the camera and explained, "Well, most of these raids yield the same sort of things every time. We don't get a lot of surprises on these things, even when we're raiding groups we know don't speak to each other. We usually find guns and racist propaganda. We'll find some way of funding their agenda, usually drugs, and we'll sometimes find explosives."

The interviewer, an avuncular man by the name of Lindquist who bore a strong resemblance to a walrus, nodded sagely. "Certainly. That all makes sense. But except for the explosives, any of those things could be found in the home of someone who isn't a racist or terrorist."

"True.” She gave him that cool little smile again. "It's true. Well, we'd probably take a dim view of the drugs in any event. Leaving fifteen pounds of heroin out on the kitchen table, in small baggies, just seems like asking for legal trouble for the general public. If any of your viewers are armchair lawyers, that does count as being in plain sight if your kitchen has a window.” She lifted an eyebrow at the camera, and Nick had to laugh.

"Here's the thing," Aliprandi continued. "We usually find a certain size stockpile of guns, and we expect that. When we find guns that are all from the same manufacturer, we get a little suspicious. I'm a firearms enthusiast myself, and I tend to choose the best tool for the job. My sidearm is a Glock. My favorite rifle is a Smith and Wesson. And sure, maybe you'd get one enthusiast here and there who had a fondness for one maker over another, but when it happens over and over, you have to start to wonder if there isn't something going on here. Especially when that 'favorite' is the same manufacturer."

Nick had his suspicions about Aliprandi's evidence. The Bureau wouldn't let her say anything if the stupid gun stashes were the only evidence they had. And no one seriously believed that having a stack of Smolak guns made a person part of a white supremacist group, did they? Smolak Enterprises was a massive corporation, and millions of people all over the world owned Smolak guns. That would be an awful lot of white supremacists.

The problem was, of course, that the FBI kept raiding white supremacist sites, and they kept finding Smolak guns at the sites. They didn't just find one or two, either. It seemed like every morning brought a new headline. "500 SMOLAK GUNS SEIZED NEAR WINSTON-SALEM.” "50 SMOLAK SMALL ARMS TAKEN IN RAID NEAR HOPEWELL.” "SMOLAK ARMS CACHE AND EXPLOSIVES FOUND IN BUNKER OUTSIDE OF GREENVILLE.”

Nick couldn't influence any of the headlines. And neither, apparently, could anyone else. Nick was just a nurse, and he had no particular insight into the workings of Congress that anyone else didn't have. He did have social media, though, and he could count the number of unhinged messages coming from certain leaders in the House and Senate just as easily as anyone else could.

"Doesn't the FBI have anything better to do with their time than count legally owned firearms?" groused Congressman Cook, on one of the popular microblogging sites.

Another, Senator Stephen Metzger of South Carolina, added, "This #fakenews #witchhunt will go down in history as one of the greatest blunders of our time."

The senator from Virginia, Senator Daniel Marsden, chimed in too. "Hey @DOJ get your house in order. Rogue FBI harassing innocent gun owners."

And still, the finds kept coming. While congressmen from Chaos Tree's home area decried the authorities' enthusiasm for the search, most respectable news outlets were quick to pick up on the brand of weapon being used. They moved from headlines to think pieces in a matter of days.

The headlines on Nick's computer moved from weapons counts and arrest reports to questions. "HOW MUCH IS TOO MUCH?" asked the Post one morning. The subheading read, "At What Point Does A Manufacturer Bear Responsibility For the Use Of Their Product?"

That subject became the focus of water cooler conversation all around the ER as the next week went on. It wasn't an easy question to solve, either. "It seems pretty stupid to blame Smolak Enterprises because a certain type of person has been buying their guns.” Nick shook his head as he checked paperwork to be sent down to billing. "I mean once you've done your due diligence, in terms of not selling to people who can't legally own a gun, there's not a lot you can do to stop someone."

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you.” Mal paused where he was organizing medications ahead of the late-afternoon rush. "This seems to be a special case, though. It's not a case of preference. It's stockpiling. They must be doing something, in terms of their marketing, to be selling to these guys."

Jenny Rhee, one of the other nurses on their shift, nodded. "I'm with him," she said and jerked her head toward Mal. "I mean sure, something about these specific guns appeals to those guys and who the heck knows what it is. But when you've got fifty of the same thing in one place? Someone got a special deal on it.” She waved a hand.

Mal tilted his head and looked off into the corner for a minute. "That's something I hadn't thought of before. Interesting."

"What's interesting?” Nick leaned forward.

"I've got to call Agent Aliprandi.” He bolted for the entrance.

Nick and Jenny watched Mal go. "He's an odd one.” Jenny sniffed. "Oh well. Tell me, are you excited for the baby?"

Nick grimaced. He was glad for the change in subject, but he could have wished for almost anything else. "I am. I'm just a little bit...I don't know. I'm kind of weirded out by it. It's not at all like the last one, but the circumstances are different so I guess I shouldn't compare them.”

"Well, your body wasn't even done growing yet the last time, was it?” Jenny patted his arm. "You were only eighteen. A boy's not done growing until he's in his twenties. You'll get through this one just fine. Is your son excited?"

"Oh, you bet. It turns out he really likes babies. He can't wait to be a big brother and take his turn holding the baby.” Nick beamed. "You know, I really got lucky with Sammy. He's such an amazing kid. He's so sunny and so helpful. I couldn't have asked for better."

Jenny grinned at him. "Well, all the credit for that goes to you. You raised him that way. You made him that way."

Nick blushed. He wasn't used to getting praise for much, as a single dad. "I guess. I have to figure a lot of luck went into it too. He's always been healthy, no problems that would make it hard for him to keep up that sunshine. You never know. Some kids are just fussier than others or more nervous. You love them all the same, I guess, but Sammy turned out to be one of the easy ones."

"I'm glad you've got each other.” She patted him on the back just in time to see the doors to the emergency department slide open. "Looks like another case of influenza. They used to have a song about it, back during the 1918 flu."

"Really?” Nick recoiled. Who would want to have a song about a ghastly disease like that?

And then the afternoon rush began. Nick didn't have time to think about weird gallows humor from the last century. He was busy taking blood and prepping IVs. Before quitting time, he saw seven probable flu cases, three dog bites, and two burns that seemed pretty suspicious to him. He headed to Sammy's after-school program, picked him up, and brought him home.

He had no idea how much longer Tom would be gone, but he wished the deployment would end soon. He knew most deployments lasted a lot longer than this. Most deployments lasted six months at least, but Tom's platoon was different. They went in, did their thing, and got out. Was that because they were alphas and the Naval powers-that-be weren't willing to offend their host countries? Nick didn't want to think like that, but sometimes he had to wonder.

That night, as he and Sammy caught a little bit of TV before bed, he felt the baby inside him move for the first time. It was just a little tiny sensation, like little bubbles welling up somewhere in his belly. He sat up and pressed a hand to his abdomen, excited beyond measure. He'd have missed it if this had been his first pregnancy. He'd have probably dismissed it as indigestion or something.

Damn it. Tom should have been here for this. Nick should have been able to grab Tom's hand and move it to the spot where the baby had kicked against the wall of his stomach. He should have been able to share that moment with the other father. He knew it wasn't Tom's fault he wasn't there. He was away on deployment, saving human lives and all that.

The other Navy spouses would shame him for resenting Tom's absence, even a little bit.

He pulled himself up straighter. Nick wasn't a Navy spouse. Those folks might have gone into their partnerships with their eyes open, knowing what they were getting into. Nick hadn't. Things had just kind of happened, and now here he was pregnant again and the father still wasn't here to help him through it. Nick understood why, and he mostly supported Tom, but it sucked.

At least he wasn't alone this time. He turned to Sammy. "The baby just moved!"

Sammy gaped. "Really? For real? In your belly?"

"That's right! You want to feel?"

"Can I?"

"I don't know. It might be too small for you to feel it yet, but you can try. Here, give me your hand.” He took Sammy's hand, and he moved it to the little bubbly spot on his belly.

Absolute silence reigned while Nick waited for Sammy to figure out if he could feel the baby moving. Nick knew the baby could feel Sammy. It was kicking against Sammy's hand for all it was worth.

Finally Sammy yanked his hand back. "Holy crap! It's like...it's like pop rocks!"

Nick laughed. "Yeah. It's a lot like that. I was thinking bubbles, but pop rocks works.” He grinned over at his son. "You know, you used to move around in my belly like that once."

"I did?” Sammy scratched his head. "Was I mad, or trying to get out or something?"

"No. They move around a bit just to get the muscles moving, making sure everything works. They aren't choosing to do it. Their brains aren't even really 'on' yet.” He put his hand back over where the baby was. "It's just instinct, that's all."

"Does it feel weird?” Sammy frowned. "Like, it's someone else, moving around inside you. That seems kind of weird."

"A little bit.” Nick nodded. "I try not to think about it. And like I said, they can't really think or anything yet. So it's not like they're sitting there trying to move my body or anything like that. It's not like that weird show you like with all the possessions."

Sammy relaxed. "I'd hate to think I'd done something like that to you."

"No. I'd have put up with it anyway, if it meant getting you at the end of it.” Maybe Nick didn't have Tom here, but he still had family to share the moment with. And that, he decided, was enough for him.

***

By the time the team boarded the plane in Toulon, Tom was ready to turn his back on the Mediterranean for a while. It wasn't so much that he minded doing the work. He was starting to question just how much of an effect he was having, but he didn't mind doing it. It wasn't so much that he minded being apart from his family right now. He did mind being separated from them, but he didn't have a choice and he could accept that.

Tom's problem was the fact that the work they were doing wasn't being supported at home. On the contrary, they were working against the spirit of the orders they'd received. They hadn't been given orders to specifically avoid White Dawn or white supremacy entanglements, but they weren't stupid men. They knew what was going on here. The minute word got back that they'd found links to White Dawn, and to Chaos Tree, everything they'd worked for would be buried.

Knowing that, knowing everything could be blown away like so much sand, made it difficult to take any of the work at all seriously.

At least the Navy was flying them home this time. They had space available on a transport flight back to the States and so they could fly back in a few hours, instead of a couple of weeks. Tom, at least, appreciated it. Plus, he could sleep on the plane. It wasn't the most comfortable place he'd slept, but he'd slept in worse, too.

As he tried to find sleep in the jolting and jerking of the plane's flight, he wondered what changes would have taken place back home between then and now. Nick would probably be showing by now. This was his second baby. Would the bump be more noticeable, like some people said? Or did the decade of difference between pregnancies erase the tendency for the bump to present sooner? It didn't matter. Tom would love Nick as much even if he were the size of a house. Still, he wondered.

Sleep finally found him, and he didn't wake up until he felt the plane making its final plunge toward the ground. Thank God. That much closer to Nick and Sam.

The plane touched down hard. The pilot was apparently more accustomed to flying cargo flights instead of passengers. Baudin's head bounced back and hit the wall. He barked out a loud curse, and Tom hid a snicker behind his hand.

Now that they were back in the States, was Baudin going to take another shot at Nick or had he learned his lesson? The possibility sobered Tom up quickly.

The team took the bus back to Virginia Beach, where they were formally dismissed. Tom all but ran to his car. He had the option of going back to his condo, but he was driving down the road to the Portsmouth house before he even knew he'd made the decision.

He could use a shower, and Nick hadn't had any warning. Still, the sun was up, and that meant everyone was probably at least awake if not on their way to school and work already. He would be content to use Nick's shower, and to nap in his tiny little bed that smelled like him, if it meant that he could just be around Nick's things.

Nick and Sammy hadn't left for school yet. Nick's car was still in the driveway. Tom rang the doorbell.

Nick came to the door slowly, and he only opened it a crack. Crap. I should have thought this through better. Tom had just wanted to surprise his partner. He hadn't thought about trauma and Nick's fear. He hadn't thought about scaring Nick worse than he already was or furthering his trauma.

Nick didn't seem to be all that bothered. When he recognized Tom, he threw the door open and held onto Tom as hard as he could. "Are you really home?" he whispered. The baby bump pressed into Tom's belly, drawing the blood from Tom's brain and into his cock.

"Call into work," he urged, nibbling on Nick's ear. "Come on, just this once. We'll stay home and break your bed frame."

Nick's cheeks turned a bright shade of red. "I can't," he hissed. "I've already missed too much time after—well, after. And I'm going to miss a bunch of time when the baby's born.”

"Come on. Show up late, then.” Tom knew Nick would say no, but he had to try. He needed Nick to know just how much he wanted him, and just how sexy this new growth was.

"Hold that thought, cowboy.” Nick chuckled and buried his face in Tom's shoulder. His hard cock rubbed against Tom's.

Sammy let out a sigh that conveyed, wordlessly, a thousand years' worth of exasperation. "Hello? School?” He blinked. "Tom? When did you get home?"

Tom laughed. "About an hour ago, all told. Grab your things. I'll give you a ride, and then I'll come back here. I'll be waiting when you both get home tonight, okay?"

Nick beamed at him. "You'd do that?"

"I need that.” Tom kissed him, and then bent down and kissed the baby bump too.

Sammy was looking at him a little oddly, but he grabbed his coat and hat and followed him out the door. When they hopped into Tom's car, Tom gave his son a sideways glance. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Sure.” Sammy kicked his feet against the floor. "I'm glad you're back."

"I'm glad to be back.” Tom considered whether or not he wanted to say anything and decided to press on. He should be honest with the kid, after all. "I never used to mind deployments, you know? I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the whole thing, when they made me enlist, but since I was here I didn't mind deploying. Better me than someone with a family, you know? And then all of a sudden I found out I had a family all along. And that family—you, and your dad—you're in my life now. And all I can think about is getting back to the two of you."

"Hm.” Sammy frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "But you don't really know us. I mean you knew Dad, a long time ago. But I'm still pretty new to you."

"You are.” Tom nodded. "And that's okay. You're still my son, and I still love you.” He glanced at Sammy again. "I noticed you looked at me a little funny when I kissed your dad's baby bump."

"It's just kind of weird, I guess. I didn't think you'd be all that excited."

Tom gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. It wasn't Sammy's fault. Tom hadn't known, hadn't been able to show him different. "I didn't get a chance to enjoy all of that with you. I wish I had, but I didn't. Just because I couldn't be there with you, doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy as much of this pregnancy as I can. I appreciate you having been there when I couldn't though."

"Really?” Sammy perked up. "You don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?” Tom laughed. "Dude. For one thing, Nick loves you more than anything or anyone. And he should. Our family—all of our family—is expanding. I don't get to be jealous that you were able to be there for some of the things I couldn't.” He sighed. They were almost to the school. He'd have to make this short.

"Even though I felt the baby move?"

Tears sprang to Tom's eyes. He tried to fight them off. "Really? What was it like?"

Sammy opened his mouth, squirming with excitement. Then he stopped. "It's hard to describe. But I bet Dad will show you. He's awful excited about it."

Tom figured he knew what Sammy was trying to do. "You're a good kid, you know that?"

"Sometimes.” Sammy flashed him a quick grin.

"Listen.” Tom swallowed. "You and Nick, you're in a bit of a weird situation. Most Navy families—” He stopped himself. "When a guy signs onto the Navy, he's making a sacrifice. And when he takes a partner—gets married—his partner also makes a sacrifice. A Navy spouse serves their country, and Navy kids serve their country too. It's just different. And usually, at least the spouse made that choice. And the kids were born into it. You and your dad, well, you didn't pick this."

"No.” Sammy shook his head. "But Dad knew you were a SEAL when he said you could come around, you know. I think he still kind of knew what he was getting into, don't you? And I think he's okay with it.”

Tom pulled up to the curb in front of the school. "Thanks for chatting with me about that, Sam. I feel a bit better now."

Sammy grinned impishly as he slid out of the car. "No problem. But hey—no more kissing where I can see it. I'm too young for that stuff.” He shut the door and jogged quickly into the school.

Nick was gone by the time Tom got home, so he showered and took a nap. Re-acquainting himself with Nick's scent was key to feeling like he'd made it back to the "real world" again.

After his nap, he got up and did some laundry. Then, he took stock of his situation. The living situation was untenable. They couldn't fit a baby in this house, and Tom couldn't fit in this house full time. Maybe after Nick came home tonight they could spend some time looking at houses online and making a long-term plan.

He checked his email, too. He didn't tend to get a lot of it. His parents occasionally sent him messages, mostly memes from his mom and chain letters from his dad, who hadn't figured out that they were a serious violation of etiquette. Tom didn't have the heart to tell him to quit. It wasn't like the guy logged on more than every other week, for crying out loud.

He got a note from his lawyer, Darrell. That struck him as a little bit odd. He had some time to kill, so he called Darrell instead of blowing him off or just emailing him.

"Tom!" Darrell's booming voice rang out from the other end of the line. "Glad to see you made it back safely. How was your deployment? Everything go smoothly?"

"As smoothly as these things ever go, I guess.” Tom couldn't give him specifics, but he could tell him a few details. He knew Darrell craved them. He'd been on active duty once and got a wistful look in his eye whenever he mentioned it. "I won fifty bucks off my CO in a poker game."

"Really? That's pretty impressive."

"Yeah. DeWitt doesn't usually lose. But hey, I'll take it. Anyway, I saw your email. Something about my benefits?"

"Oh. Yes. Tom, you filed to assign your benefits to Sammy in case anything happened to you.”

"Yeah, like, the day we met.” Tom shook his head and put his feet on the coffee table. "I thought we squared that away."

"We did, we did. It's just—well, your parents have made three attempts to have those benefits reassigned to them. They've also called me to make sure they're still your heirs on your will."

Tom's jaw dropped. "Wait. What? First of all, how did they even get your number?"

"I have no idea. None. I'm guessing this isn't something you've had any discussions with them about?"

"No, none.” Tom scratched his head. "I can't understand this. It's the first I'm hearing about it."

"Well, that's surprising. The first time was during your last deployment. I found out because the benefits office called me, since you were deployed. I called Serena Torres, and I know she spoke to Nick about it."

Tom's mouth went dry. "Why wouldn't Nick say anything?"

Darrell went quiet for a moment. "I couldn't speak to that, but son, if I remember correctly, he wasn't willing to use you for those benefits. There wasn't anything you could do about it. You were deployed, the lawyers were handling it. If it were me, I wouldn't want to worry the man I loved while he was away fighting ISIS or whatever. I'd want his mind on the enemy, not on whatever shady crap his parents might be pulling."

Tom pursed his lips. "Yeah.” He closed his eyes. "Yeah, that sounds about right. He probably didn't want to trash my parents to me, either."

"No, that's something else he'll leave to the lawyers.” Darrell heaved a mighty sigh. "Nick had to change the number at the Portsmouth house. It's unlisted now."

"Wait, what?” Tom tugged at his hair.

"Evidently someone had been calling the house, on the rare occasions Nick wasn't home, and saying some terrible things to your boy. She didn't give a name, but Sammy said she was an older woman. The number is a Nebraska number."

"And you think it's my mom.” Tom punched the couch cushion. "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know. If I knew why the people in my clients’ lives did half of the things they do, I'd be out of a job. But here we are. That's the truth. I hate to spring this on you when you just got back, Tom. It's all being handled, but if you can take care of the family stuff before it has to go further with the lawyers, your life will go a hell of a lot better."

"Tell me about it. Thanks for the heads up, Darrell. I'll let you know what I find out."

Tom didn't confront Nick until after Sammy went to bed. Even then, he didn't get adversarial about it. Darrell had given him some good advice. When Nick bowed his head and nodded, Tom knew his lawyer had been right. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to bother you with it. I mean the lawyers were dealing with it, and they said it was airtight. You were deployed, and I figured you had enough to worry about. You didn't need to worry about your parents coming after Sammy and me, too."

"And what about this stuff with someone calling Sammy? Why am I just hearing about this now, babe?” He stroked Nick's hair. "I mean seriously, what's up with that?"

"I just found out about it myself, while you were gone this time around. Once I found out, I talked to Serena. She told me what to do, and I did it.” Nick looked down and away. "I was scared, but I feel a little better now, you know? I was able to do something."

Tom smiled softly. "You're a good dad. A really good dad. He's lucky to have you.” He stroked Nick's face. "Is the baby moving right now?"

Nick brightened up and nodded. "Want to feel it?"

Tom couldn't have been more grateful for the change of subject. "Can I?"

Nick moved Tom's hand to a spot on the right side of his baby bump. Tom couldn't feel anything at first, but then he picked up on something just under the surface. It was faint beneath his fingertips, a little bit like soda bubbles. "That's our baby?"

Nick's eyes shone as he met Tom's. "That's our baby.”

All Tom could do was smile.